Vermin Redwaller
by Kelaiah
Summary: A unique reason as to WHY a vermin would be living at Redwall. Please Read & Review, people!
1. Intro to the Main Character

**Chapter 1**

Skipper was a big, huge beast, made entirely of bulging muscle and steely sinew. He towered high above all of his otters, standing head and shoulders taller than any in his crew. He was also a handsome creature; there was no other as handsome, with fur of a creamy brown color and eyes dark as tree boughs in the night.

There was no other otter, or in fact, any other creature in all of Mossflower that was stronger, faster, or more skilled in weaponry than Skipper. It was a bit of a rumor that he was a descendant of Deyna Taggerung, but nobeast knew for sure. Not even Skipper himself knew for sure, for both of his parents had not been from the Holt that Skipper ruled over now; they had stumbled into the cave one night, begging for assistance as his mother cried out with birth pangs. She had died in child birth, and the father, who was already well into his middle seasons at the time, had died of old age before his son grew up.

The skipper of that Holt had taken the young otter under his care, as he did not have any children himself. When the young otter began to older, he showed signs of incredible strength unseen for miles, which had started the other otters talking about who his parents really were, and whether or not the young otter was of the line of Deyna Taggerung.

Skipper would've liked to boast that he was a descendant of the Taggerung, but he knew he could never honestly say that if he didn't know for sure, so he simply didn't.

Every morning Skipper would wake up early, earlier than any of his otters, and would do his daily exercise, which consisted of a quick swim the river (Skipper always swam in the opposite direction the water was flowing), lifting heavy objects (Skipper's favorite was heaving boulders and throwing them into the river and then taking them back out; it was said that the Taggerung could do the same), a brisk jog (running all around the territory his holt was in), and sling practice (there was nobeast more skilled than Skipper at this).

One morning, however, something happened.

It was during one of his "brisk jogs" that Skipper wasn't looking where he was going, and--

_Whump!_

--ended up knocking somebeast into a tree.

_"Augh!"_ screamed the poor creature as it fell to the ground.

Skipper yelped and froze as he beheld a tall, skinny creature slump against the tree trunk, its cloak draped over its face, a haversack laying at its footpaws.

Slowly, the creature brought up its paws and lifted up the cloak to reveal the face of a young ferret, who stared open-mouthed at Skipper with wide brown eyes.

For a moment, Skipper was at a lost for words, then finally he managed, "Oh, sir, I am terribly sorry!"

"Well I never!" said the ferret indignantly as Skipper helped him up.

"I am truly sorry," Skipper said honestly.

"Watch where yer going next time, eh?" the ferret said as he tried to smooth his headfur.

"Oh yes, entirely my fault, here, let me help you," Skipper then began to try to smooth out the ferret's fur with his huge rough paws.

The ferret jerked his head away, his fur in even more disarray.

"Leave my fur alone!" he snarled, as he tried to disentangle his cloak.

"Oh yes, I am so sorry, here, let me help you with that." Skipper reached forward and tried to straighten out the garment for the young ferret.

"Eh, let's see, was it this way? Or was it the other way?" Skipper asked as he accidentally tangled it up more.

The ferret lashed out impatiently. _"You_--leave my cloak alone!"

Skipper pulled back his paws, abashed. "I am terribly sorry, so rude of me, here, here's your bag--"

The big brawny otter picked up the ferret's haversack, but accidentally picked it up the wrong way so that its contents fell out.

The ferret yelped as his traveling food and extra clothes fell on the dirt.

_"Oh!"_ cried Skipper, truly embarrassed. "I _am_ sorry! Here, let me--!"

"No, no!" the ferret snapped, kneeling down.

"Oh please, I insist, I've been rude enough already. . . ."

As they both kneeled down, their heads bonked together.

_"Ow!"_ the young ferret cried, falling over.

"Oh dear me! I am so sorry!" Skipper said, ignoring the small pain in his own head, knowing that his head was harder than the ferret's. "Here, let me--are you hurt bad?"

The ferret jerked himself away, angry tears in his eyes, and began picking up his food and clothes from the ground.

"Oh, do accept my apology, sir! I-I didn't mean. . . ." Skipper trailed off as he began to assist in retrieving the ferret's things.

Both the otter and the ferret tried picking up the things from the ground and putting them back into the haversack. Skipper held up one particular garment nervously.

"Eh. . . ."

The skinny ferret looked up and saw what Skipper was holding. With wide, startled eyes, he snatched it away, growling, "You leave my things alone!"

"Listen, sir, I am terribly sorry," Skipper apologized again, completely and utterly sincere about it. "Here, why don't I--?"

_"No!"_ the ferret snarled, trying to stuff the rest of his now dirt-covered traveling food and clothes back into his sack.

"Now, please, I am sorry, here, let me help you," said Skipper as he tried to help push the stuff back into the pack. Unfortunately, Skipper's thrust was too strong, and the sack broke.

_"Gah!"_ said the ferret as his things went spewing back out onto the dirt again.

"Oh dear!" cried Skipper, blushing furiously. "Listen, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to--" Skipper said as both he and the ferret began to stand up, but the ferret tripped over his tangled cloak and ended up in Skipper's arms.

Skipper, who was so used to females throwing themselves into his arms, found himself laughing and saying from force of old habit, "Oh please, madam," before realizing that the ferret was undoubtedly a male.

_"Please madam?!"_ cried the ferret, outraged, as he pushed himself away from the otter.

"Eh, sorry, force of habit," Skipper explained, forcing a grin. "Listen though, I am terribly sorry. Are you sure you don't need help with your cloak? Here, I think I can--"

Skipper reached out and tried to untangle the garment, and before the ferret could pull away, the clasp broke in Skipper's grip and the cloak slipped from the ferret's skinny shoulders.

This time the ferret could only roll his eyes and lean his head to the side as Skipper once again made his sincere and embarrassed apologies and try to pick up the cloak.

"Oh, sir, I really am sorry, I'm usually not this clumsy," Skipper said as he gave the cloak a yank.

Unfortunately, one of the ferret's footpaws had been standing on the cloak, so when Skipper yanked up the garment, the young ferret fell to the earth again.

"Oh! Oh, my giddy aunt!" cried Skipper. He didn't remember ever being so accident prone.

Again he assisted in helping the skinny ferret up, and again the ferret pushed himself away from the otter.

Skipper, who seemed to be abundant with apologies, finally said, "Listen, sir, I've really got to go--"

"Then _go," _the young ferret growled through clenched teeth.

Skipper, completely abashed, began to turn away, but then stopped, and turned back.

"Wait a minute, here," he said, pulling something from his belt and handing it to the young ferret.

The ferret inspected it to find it looked like some kind of a rock shaped like a dock leaf. A small hole was near the top of it, and a string was slung through it.

"Just show that to any otter or woodlander and they'll give you help. Just tell them that Skipper gave it to you, okay?"

"Aye," the young ferret growled, the smallest trace of reluctant gratitude in his voice.

Skipper gave a small bow and said, "Good day, sir," and turned away--

_RRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!_

Skipper froze. He looked down. His tunic was still in one piece, but something was caught on his belt. . . .

Slowly, the otter looked over his shoulder at the young ferret.

The ferret had his arms over his head, about to put the necklace on, his brown eyes wide open.

The young ferret's tunic had somehow gotten caught on Skipper's belt, and now it was torn in half all the way down to his waistsash.

Their eyes met.

"Oh, I am _so_ sorry," Skipper whispered, trying to pull the tunic shred off of his belt, but--

_Rip!_

The tunic was ripped even further down.

The ferret stiffened, and continued to stare at the otter with blazing eyes.

"Oh, uh, heh, I uh," said Skipper as he again tried to disentangle the tunic. "Here, why don't I--?"

_Rip!_

"Eh, or how about--?"

_RIP! Flop!_

The tunic was torn in two, and both pieces, along with the waistsash, draped themselves about the young ferret's foot paws.

Skipper froze. The ferret stiffened.

"Ah heh," said the otter. He tried putting the tunic shreds back on the ferret, but they wouldn't stay on.

The young ferret continued to stare at Skipper with blazing brown eyes that seemed to look right through the otter. Finally Skipper couldn't take it any longer.

"Ah heh," he said again. "G-good-bye!"

And with that, the otter chieftain turned and ran away, leaving behind the young ferret with his arms still raised, his torn haversack, traveling food, extra clothes, tangled cloak, ripped tunic and waistsash draped around his footpaws on the dirt.


	2. Unsavory Dealings

**A/N:** Hi everybody! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! If you look back at ch. 1, you'll notice that I've changed the spelling error some of you caught (my thanks), and that other stuff about Skipper.

About Skipper: You're not supposed to care whether or not he is Deyna's descendant or not; it's not fundamental to this story. The only reason why I put that in there was because I found it amusing that such a big, strong beast that _might_ be a descendant of Deyna would actually take any lip from such a skinny little vermin. Besides, Skipper isn't the main character here. The ferret is.

And as to _why_ Skip didn't beat the ferret up: _What did the ferret do to Skip that would've provoked him to beat the ferret up?!_ I am so sick and tired of reading about all these jerkish Skippers who go around beating on vermin whether they've done something or not, so I decided to stray away from that. Eh, no offense to anyone who _has_ written something like that.

Well, _onward!_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 2**

The young ferret was furious.

It was bad enough he had to go to Mossflower and do something that he wasn't certain he wanted to do, but to have all of his stuff torn to pieces and thrown in the dirt by some crazy otter. . . .

_Maybe it's an omen,_ the young ferret's mind said. _Maybe I shouldn't be doing this. Maybe I should just run away. . . ._

The young ferret shrugged the thought off as he searched through the pile of clothes and pulled out the cleanest tunic he could find.

_Oh sure,_ the young ferret berated himself. _I could have worn this nice rough tunic with the stout leather belt on my journey, but nooo, I just _had_ to wear one of my _nice_ tunics with the waist sash! Stupid stupid! Now it's all torn, good enough only for rags now, and not only that, but all my food is covered in dirt!_

The young ferret scowled as he tried to brush off the dirt from the already half-stale biscuits, but a lot of them had not only been dropped into the dirt, but also grounded into the moss from the tree nearby.

_Stupid otter, _the ferret thought, glaring down at the necklace the otter had given him. He considered running after the otter and throwing the necklace at his head, but then the ferret decided against it. Usually if a woodlander gave you something, usually it came in handy.

The young ferret then tried to bundle up his belongings in the torn haversack, but it wasn't easy. Everything kept on flopping out. When he finally got everything strapped in, the young ferret then tried to untangle his cloak, which took him awhile. After that was finished, he picked up his sack and continued on, huffing and puffing, and very flustered.

He walked on and on, further and further south, toward his destination: Mossflower Woods.

It would be there were he would fulfill his assignment. And he dreaded every step he took.

_Well, just hurry up and get it over with!_ his mind rapped out sharply.

Right. The young ferret picked up his pace and hurried; he was getting rather hungry, but he had discarded the food that had been ruined, and had precious little left.

_Stupid otter.

* * *

_

It was getting close to noon, and the ferret was getting more hungry by the minute. Again and again he considered stopping for lunch, but always decided against it. Maybe he could find some berry bush or a fruit tree or something along the way.

_Snap!_

The young ferret jumped. He looked around wildly pawing frantically at the dagger he kept hidden behind his back in his belt. But there was nobeast there.

_Bam!_

A large stone came streaking past the ferret's head and slammed into the tree trunk by his head.

"Yipe!" The young ferret dropped to the ground, putting his paws over his head, calling out, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Please! I haven't done anything!"

From up above, the ferret thought he heard a contemptuous answer, but it was cut off by a louder, sterner voice, "Cease, Treebolt! Can't you see he's alone and unarmed!"

There was a sound of paws dropping to the ground beside him.

The young ferret looked up into the stern features of a middle seasoned squirrel. He was tall, and looked even taller from the ferrets' position on the ground. He wore a belt with a sling hanging from his side.

A second squirrel, much younger than the first, also came down. He also wore a belt, only he had his sling in his paws, ready with another stone. He glared down at the ferret with eyes like charcoals.

"Don't mind Treebolt," the older squirrel said to the ferret, holding out a strong-looking paw to the ferret. "He is young and too rash and overly protective. I hope you're not hurt."

The skinny ferret took the squirrel's outstretched paw, and was astounded by how rough it felt. He was astounded still when the squirrel pulled him up to his feet without seeming to exert himself.

The ferret quickly stood back, wiping dirt from his tunic, his eyes darting between both squirrels.

"Uh, no," the young ferret said in response to the older squirrel. "I'm . . . I'm not hurt. I was just . . . passing by."

The younger squirrel, Treebolt, snorted. He was taller than the ferret. Much broader, too.

The older squirrel kicked him before turning to the ferret. "Don't take it personally. We usually don't get many creatures that just 'pass by' around here, so Treebolt is suspicious of many beasts; not just vermin. He's acts like this even with woodlanders, too. We got mates and liddle uns to worry about, eh?"

The ferret nodded, not wanting to offend any one.

Suddenly the younger squirrel, Treebolt, pointed a sharp claw, snarling, "Where'd you get that?"

Taken aback, the young ferret could only blink and back away, but Treebolt darted forward and grabbed at the ferret's neck.

The older squirrel hollered and charged forward, but the younger squirrel held forth the leaf-stone hanging from the ferret's neck.

The squirrel stared at it for awhile, and then turned dark eyes to the ferret. "Where'd you get that, young un?"

The ferret, shaking and not liking having Treebolt so close, whimpered, "Skipper gave it to me!"

Treebolt gave a scornful, disbelieving laugh. The oldster, however, looked thoughtful.

"You say Skipper gave this to you? Why'd he do that?"

The young ferret thought about his 'run-in' with the otter that morning, and said, "It was to make up for something."

Treebolt tightened his grip on the ferret's tunic, bringing his face closer, snarling, "And that was?"

"Treebolt! Get out o' that ferret's face so he can answer properly!"

The younger squirrel backed away, still glaring. The ferret brushed at his tunic, his paws shaking.

"I didn't kill him," began the ferret, but he was interrupted by the older squirrel.

"I figured _that,"_ he said, waving his paw. "A beast like you wouldn't stand a chance against Skipper. Ah well, I can see you had an unsavory dealing with him, so I won't ask you again how you came by his amulet. Hm, though I suppose we ought to help you though, since he gave it to you. . . ."

The ferret could see by the look on Treebolt's face just what the squirrel thought of helping him, so the ferret held up his paws, saying, "Oh no, friend, it's alright. I don't really need any help. Just point me in the direction of Mossflower Woods and I'll be on my way."

Both squirrels perked up at the mention of Mossflower.

"What business do you have in Mossflower?" growled Treebolt.

"It's _not_ to storm Redwall Abbey, if you must know," the ferret shot back, taking even himself by surprise.

Before Treebolt could react, the older squirrel stood forward, paws akimbo. "Well, if you're goin' to Mossflower, I suggest taking the Shrew Ferry. It'll get you down there quicker than on foot."

"Shrew Ferry?"

"Aye. It's a river, not far from here, a little to the east actually, where some shrews have set up a ferry settlement. They row up and down the river for anybeast that's pawsore and honest. If you show 'em your amulet there, young un, they'll most probably row you down the river. You'll end up in Mossflower in no time if you take that."

The ferret nodded; the idea of sitting for the rest of his trip set well with his mind. "Thank you, sir, I'll be sure to try it."

"Alright, then, young un. Good-bye and safe trip!" And with that, the squirrel leapt up into the branches, vanishing from sight.

Treebolt, on the other paw, stayed a moment longer, giving the ferret a glare, and then followed the elder into the boughs.

The ferret sighed shakily and picked up his things. This was certainly not an everyday-trip.

_First you have a run-in with an otter, then you have a nice little "chat" with some squirrels, one of whom would've liked to have gnawed your head off, and now you're going to go ask some shrews to row you down the river. _

Oh well. The ferret shrugged and walked off to the east, more than a little apprehensive of what was going to happen.

* * *

Well, there it is! Chapter 2! What did you all think?

And just _what_ do you all think will happen in the next chapter?!


	3. The Novices

**Chapter 3**

Well, the river certainly was _packed._

The young ferret couldn't remember ever seeing so many creatures all in one place!

There were huge crowds of chattering squirrels, squeaking mice, grumbling hedgehogs, mumbling moles, chortling otters, and shrill-voiced voles. Mostly woodlanders, there were, except there was a scattering of vermin here and there. The young ferret knew he saw what looked like a healer vixen tending to the paw of an otter, two rats who were sitting on a couple of rocks, playing a heated game involving colored pebbles, a small crowd of weasels guffawing at something, and a little fox cub sitting in the lap of a large badger.

The young ferret stopped to take another look at the last one to check if he really had seen that, but he was so jostled by the crowd that he could barely see an arm's length ahead of him.

_Ugh,_ he thought. _Is what I'm going to Mossflower for _really _worth all this?_

Standing on tip-paw, the young ferret could almost see the river. There were several docks all around the bank, which allowed the shrews to store baggage and supplies for their passengers. The ferret stared at the shrews; he had never seen one before, only heard of them. They were _tiny,_ so short and stocky, with such long snouts! They all wore bright-colored bandanas and belts with rapiers shoved through them. Some of the shrews wore tunics, others wore kilts.

_They don't _look_ like the dangerous fighters that they're described as,_ thought the young ferret, but then again, appearances were deceiving.

The shrews looked as though they were finished filling up their boats and were allowing some of the waiting beasts on board. The young ferret, watching closely, realized that there wasn't any more room on any of the boats! He'd have to wait until the shrew boats came back!

The young ferret groaned aloud and dropped his haversack to the ground. However, after glancing around, he noticed that none of the other beasts looked disappointed by the shrew's departure.

"Don't worry," said a voice near the ferret. He turned to see a gray-furred male mouse wearing a ragged kilt looking up at him from a small fire. "There are more than just those boats," the mouse explained. "There'll be other boats that'll come by after an hour or so. You don't have to worry."

"Thanks a lot," the ferret grumbled as he picked up his bag and pushed his way through the crowds. As he went, he thought heard the mouse say something about "bad manners", but he chose to ignore it.

Oh, but the ferret was _hungry!_

Why, oh why, hadn't he asked those two squirrels for something to eat? Treebolt might not have given him anything, but the older squirrel might have. Oh, why had he been so rash to get away?

_First you wear the wrong tunic on your journey and it gets all torn up by a crazy otter, and now you pass up the opportunity to ask for food._

Tired, hungry, and pawsore, the young ferret found a tree with the roots sticking up out of the ground. The roots were large enough to be a sort of chair, which was why the young ferret plopped gratefully down on them. His shoulders slumped and his paw lost its grip on the haversack.

As he leaned his head back against the tree, the ferret soon became aware of lively, youthful chattering . . . and a strong scent of _food._

The young ferret opened his eyes and leaned forward, his eyes following his nose to the place where the scent was coming from. It was coming from a group of woodlander youths who looked like they were out on a picnic. All of them were bright-eyed, cheerful, and _eating._

The ferret felt his mouth water as he beheld the young mice, squirrels, otters, hedgehogs, moles, and voles sink their teeth into pasties and farls and tarts, all sorts of hot, streaming scents wafting about them. The scents were rich, spicy, sweet, salty, and succulent.

One of the youths, an otter, was taking a huge bite of a fish (probably one that he caught from the river), and saying to a nearby hedgehog (who was feasting on a crispy golden pastry), "I'm _hungry!"_

The young ferret felt a small pang in his stomach when he heard those words. He suddenly realized what he was doing and quickly picked up his haversack and dug out his food pack.

Glancing up, the young ferret noticed that the woodlander youths were accompanied by a huge, fierce-looking female badger wearing a funny-looking brown-green robe with a cowl and cord girdle. She watched over them with pleased, gentle dark eyes. There was also a mouse who looked to be in her middle seasons, also wearing a funny greenish-brown robe.

_Must be from Redwall,_ the ferret thought as he opened up his food pack. But what would Redwallers be doing in this neck of the woods? Besides, the youths that the two females were with weren't wearing the traditional robes, just belts, kilts, and tunics.

Oh well. It was none of his business.

The young ferret looked down into his food pack to find two biscuits left. One of them, the bigger one, was staler than the other. The young ferret hesitated, and then took out the smaller biscuit that was fresher.

Sitting with his back straight and setting a carefree look on his face, the ferret gave the biscuit a dainty nibble, bravely pretending that he had little appetite and was not in the least bit interested in what those woodlanders were eating.

After he took his first nibble, the ferret noticed something beside him. Turning his head, he saw that it was a little mousemaid, about four seasons old, as cute as she could be, staring up at him with huge blue eyes.

Immediately the ferret knew what the mouseling was after, but didn't want to draw attention to himself, so he tried to ignore the little mouse and took another dainty nibble.

But the little mouseling still continued on staring at him with those enormous blue eyes. . . .

Finally, with strained calmness, the ferret held out the biscuit between two claws. The mouseling took the offered item in her small paw, and, with a polite curtsy, trundled off to her mother.

From the crowd of woodlander youths, a squirrel had been watching the young ferret intently.

He turned to a mousemaid that was standing beside him, and whispered into her ear.

The two shared a meaningful look and a nod, and started walking toward the ferret.

The young ferret was furious, but not in the same he had been at Skipper.

He was hungry and now had only a stale biscuit to sustain him for the rest of his trip, which would probably take days before it was over. But there was no fire in his rage, only a resigned resentment. That mouseling sure had been cute, and of course she hadn't been exactly rude. . . .

_Konk!_

Startled, the ferret yelped when realized his food pack was being knocked out of his lap.

"Oh! Dear me! I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you!"

The young ferret yelped again; _it was that crazy otter!_

But no! It was only a mousemaid, who had his food pack back in his lap before the ferret could say or do anything.

"I'm so sorry! How rude of me!" the maiden said, her hazel eyes filled with sincerity as she tried to wipe off dirt and grass from the stale biscuit.

Before the ferret could reply, a sturdily-built squirrel appeared at the mouse's side.

"Say Fern," he said jovially. "Have you ever tasted a vegetable gravy pasty?"

"Vegetable gravy pasty?" the mousemaid asked, laughing. "What's that?"

"Well, it's an old recipe of my aunt Pineflowers'. It won her four proposals. Try it, and see if you like it," he said, holding out a luscious-looking pasty.

"Oh, no thanks, I'm full," the mousemaid said, holding up her paws.

The squirrel turned to the ferret. "How about you, sir?" he asked, holding out the savory-smelling pasty, smiling. "Would you like to try it?"

The ferret was taken aback. He looked at the steaming pasty and then up at the mouse and squirrel. Both of their faces were open and kind, warm, welcoming smiles on their faces. If they were putting him on, he couldn't tell. Oh well, if they were, he better get on with it.

"Why, yes, thank you," said the ferret as he tentatively took the offered pasty. "Matter of fact, I've always wanted to taste a vegetable gravy pasty." He blew on the pasty and took a bite. Then he gobbled it all down with relish.

The mouse and squirrel laughed.

"Looks like you liked that just fine," chuckled the squirrel. He was a strong-looking beast, with an extra-red tail. "Here, you have to try a chestnut cheese sandwich and a maple hazelnut pastry to balance the whole thing," he added, holding out a sandwich and pastry.

"Well thank you," the ferret said, eagerly taking them. "I hope I'm not troubling you."

"If Cluny the Scourge had our provisions, he'd _still _be alive," said a gruff but friendly voice from above.

The three youths looked up to see the badger lady. She stood with her paws akimbo, towering above them, her eyes alight with approval as she watched the young ferret eat. Standing beside the badger was the middle-seasoned mouse, her face kind and smiling.

"It's always nice to see young uns eating," the mouse lady said, her paws folded as she also looked upon the ferret with approval.

The ferret was even more taken aback. He thought that Redwallers couldn't abide vermin. . . .

The mouse lady and badger seemed to pick up on this, for they both laughed. "Don't look so suprised," said the mouse. "We Redwallers are willing to give help to anybeast in need."

"Just so long as those beasts don't try to attack us," said the badger, a grim twinkle in her eye.

The other woodlander youths had noticed how there was a group forming around the young ferret, and so this resulted in the entire crowd huddling themselves at the ferrets' feet, as though he were a famous storyteller. All of them looked upon the ferret with keen interest.

The young ferret was quite bewildered by all of this, but nevertheless took it all in stride, and decided to introduce himself.

"Well, thank you all for the food. I'll try to repay you-"

"I wouldn't hear of it," said the mouse lady, waving her paw. "We've got plenty to spare. And besides, we're going back to our Abbey today, so I don't think we'll have to worry about food for awhile."

"Well, thank you," said the ferret, even more taken aback. "Um, my name is Kelaiah, I'm from up north," he added before he took a bite of his pastry.

"We're Redwall Novices!" announced the young squirrel with the extra-red tail.

"Novices?" Kelaiah asked, taking a proffered napkin that a volemaid offered him.

"Redwall Abbey is sick and tired of having only oldbeasts and dibbuns around whenever there are vermin attacking our gates," explained the badger lady, her face serious, thought there was a slight smile about her lips. "Oh, we have been able to keep ourselves alive until help comes, but it can't always be like that. Things would be easier if we had some young strong paws about to help keep the abbey safe from trouble. So, we held a counsel, and we all decided to go out and ask if any youngbeasts would like to come to live at the Abbey."

"And Brockrose here _insisted_ that she go," said the mouse lady, a playful grin on her face. "Couldn't wait to get away from the dibbuns."

Before Kelaiah could ask what a "dibbun" was, the badger lady was barking good-naturedly, "I did not! I just didn't want a bunch of oldsters wandering around where there's danger."

"Oh yes!" said a young otter eagerly. "I've heard about all the skirmishes that Redwall endures! It'd be great to-"

"Remember, young one," said the middle-seasoned mouse, "that even though there will times when fighting is necessary, Redwall is still a place of peace, where we tend and care for the sick, the wounded, the hungry, and the afflicted, no matter what age, gender, or species. You _all_ must remember that," she added, looking out seriously at all the now-sober young faces.

In the silence that followed, Kelaiah spoke up. "So yer all going to Mossflower, then, eh? That's where I'm going."

Immediately the young ferret was bombarded by eager questions.

"Oh, do you live there?"

"No."

"Are you visiting?"

"No."

"Are you moving there?"

"No."

"Are you joining a horde?" asked a snooty-looking vole, who received a kick from the sturdy squirrel. "Ow!"

"No," said Kelaiah, laughing.

"Then why are you going?"

Kelaiah looked out at all the eager, curious faces, and revealed his mission: "To get married."

This brought on such an outcry that many other beasts on the bank looked over at the youths worriedly.

The maidens giggled and cooed, while the males grinned and nudged each other.

"Does she live in Mossflower?"

"No, not really," explained Kelaiah. "You see, I'm from north of Mossflower, and she's from south of Mossflower, so we're going to set up our home right in between our homelands."

"What's her name?"

"Her name is Germantha."

"Hm, strange name."

"No stranger than mine," Kelaiah said, feeling that he ought to stand up for his wife-to-be.

"What's she look like?"

"Is she pretty?"

"Is she tall and willowy?"

"Mm-hmm," said Kelaiah as he took a bite of pastry.

"With sleek glossy black fur and emerald-green eyes?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I always thought violet eyes were pretty," said somebeast else.

Kelaiah started to say something, but ended up coughing on his pastry. Taking a proffered cup of mint tea, he managed to say, "Hers are violet."

"You said they were emerald," said the snooty-looking vole.

"Well they are," said Kelaiah, swallowing. "I mean, one of them is."

"One of her eyes is emerald and the other is violet?"

"I mean, well. . . ." Kelaiah looked at all the young woodlanders who had been so nice to him, and suddenly felt a wave of guilt and shame.

"I'm sorry," he began, blushing. "I was wrong to lie like that."

The woodlanders looked more surprised then offended.

"You mean you're not getting married?"

"Oh, I _am_ getting married. I was lying like that earlier to give myself some face; I haven't met my bride."

"If you've never met her," said the snooty-looking vole. "Then why are you marrying her?"

"It's an arranged marriage," explained Kelaiah grudgingly.

This brought on some giggles and chortles, some indignant sounds, some surprised sounds.

"Well really-!" said the vole, but received a shove from the sturdy squirrel, who turned to Kelaiah.

"Eh, back home," the squirrel said. "Our chieftain's daughter was wailing one day about how lonely she was. So I offered her my paw in marriage. She took one look at me and said, 'I'm not that lonely'."

As soon as the general laughter receded, the mousemaid, Fern, said, "Well I think it's lovely! I'm sure you two will be very happy!"

"Thank you, I hope so," said Kelaiah, making a comical face so that the youths laughed again.

"Is there any reason why your marriage is an arranged one?" asked the snooty-looking vole, who quickly dodged another kick from the squirrel.

"Oh, there's been a feud between both of our fathers for seasons, until finally my father said to her father, 'Look, there is little point in us being rivals when we could just simply let bygones be bygones and join forces.' And so our fathers agreed that the marriage between their children (that's us) would be more or less the seal on the agreement."

"Well," said the badger lady, Brockrose. "I think you're doing the right thing, helping your father get rid of a rival and gain an ally at the same time. Truly honorable, young un."

All of the others heartily agreed.

"Have you got any wedding garments?" somebeast asked.

"Yes, I have, actually," said Kelaiah as he reached into his haversack. He pulled out a magnificent black tunic with elegant embroidery about the hem and collar.

There were gasps of admiration as the young ferret held up his wedding garment.

"Well, I must say, young one," said the middle-seasoned mouse. "I admire your spirit. I hardly know any male who'd get _that_ dressed up for their wife-to-be."

Just then a deep cry filled the air.

_"Logalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogloooooooog!"_

"Oh, the shrews! There's more here!" cried the youths, jumping up.

"Come on, now, young uns, calm down," barked out Brockrose. "Pick up your things and get to a big boat."

The middle-seasoned mouse turned to Kelaiah, a welcoming smile on her face. "Well, since you're going south anyway, why don't you come along with us?"

Next thing Kelaiah knew, he was sitting in a shrew boat, sandwiched in between Fern and the sturdy squirrel (whom he found out was named Redbrush), surrounded by loudly singing shrews and woodlanders in a rocking boat, on his way down the river to Mossflower. . . . and his new bride. . . .

_Well, this is certainly something I never expected myself to do,_ Kelaiah thought to himself. He wondered just what new events would befall him on this trip. . . .

**A/N:** _The reason I didn't name the ferret in the last chapters is because I wanted _him_ to introduce himself. And_ yes,_ I named him after me. That's because he has certain quirks that belong to me. But then again, so far a lot of my main characters have qualities that are similar to my own: hard, bitter, resentful Horty; brave, wild, charming Gerrith; gentle, mellow-hearted Windblade; dark, sinister, mysterious Zurzak; and fragile, doomed Dernwyn._

_Anyway. . . ._

_How is my character (Kelaiah) coming along so far? How would you describe him? What needs to be improved about him? What more should we all know about him?_

_Please read & review, and thank you all so much for all the previous ones! (To reward you all for being so nice in reviewing me, I shall write extra good stories, eh? I can hear you all holler for joy (sarcastic mode on, btw). Whatever. R&R!)_


	4. Meet the Bride

**Chapter 4**

Kelaiah could see nothing but dense green forest on either side of the boat as he was swept along down the current with all the singing shrews and novices. There were two boats going in the same direction; Sister Nellwyn, the middle-seasoned mouse lady, had taken half of the novices and got onto the first boat, while Brockrose had taken the other half onto the second boat.

Kelaiah began to wonder if it was such a good idea to go down river; he _hated_ being on water. After a none-too-savory event where he had almost drowned while going down some rapids on a leaky raft, the young ferret shunned all activity to dealed with water. He could swim just fine, but he still didn't like it. The water always chilled him and there was always the chance of getting a leg caught in a fallen tree branch, or having it being bitten off by a pike.

But after awhile Kelaiah didn't feel quite so nervous; the shrews certainly seemed to know what they were doing: they were singing lustily and loudly, encouraging the novices to join in. Even Brockrose, who was sitting behind Kelaiah, was singing.

The young ferret sat silently between Fern the mousemaid and the sturdy squirrel with the extra-red tail (whom he found out was named Redbrush; Kelaiah was hardly surprised), trying to appear as calm and as carefree as the rest of them seemed to be. Suddenly a shrew appeared in front of him.

"So wot's this one doin' 'ere?" the shrew asked, pointing his long snout at Kelaiah, causing the young ferret to lean back. The shrew spoke so loudly that the singing stopped and everybeast turned in the ferret's direction.

"This is Kelaiah," said Brockrose, putting a heavy paw on the ferret's skinny shoulder. "He's a friend, and has come to Mossflower to meet his new bride."

At this, several shrewmaids all giggled and batted their eyelashes at Kelaiah, while several males chortled and nudged each other.

The shrew that had spoken first, a tall (for a shrew), broad-shouldered fellow wearing a belt with a rapier shoved through it, looked disbelieving.

"To get married, eh?" he said, his dark eyes peering at the ferret. "And wot's the business of this marriage?"

"Grimp!" shouted a deep, hoarse voice.

"Logalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalog-" shouted all the shrews on the boat as a old stern-looking shrew jumped his way onto their boat from the other (the boats were sailing quite closely), but they were cut off by the old shrew.

"Ah, shuttup!" he snapped, before turning to the big shrew, Grimp. "I know that look in your face," he growled, making Grimp shrink back. "You was gonna go on another fight and cause my boat to sink again, eh?"

"Was not!" said Grimp, stamping his foot (a gesture which surprised Kelaiah).

"You was too-"

"Was not!" shouted Grimp, pointing at Kelaiah. "Was just questioning 'im, is all!"

The old shrew turned and saw the young ferret for the first time. He stared open-mouthed.

Brockrose, however, laughed. "Oh come now, Log-a-log, you give business to _anybeast,_ remember?"

The old shrew, Log-a-log, quickly regained his composure. "I assure you, Marm, tis nothing to do with 'im bein' a vermin. I just didn't realize 'e was on the boat, tis all."

"I understand," said Brockrose, nodding.

"Alright, young un," Log-a-log went on, turning to Kelaiah. "Wot's your business? Us shrews gotta know who we're shippin' down river an' all."

"Um," said Kelaiah, who felt his face begin to burn. "M-my name is Kelaiah, I'm on my way to Mossflower to get married."

"Wah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" laughed the old shrew, putting his paws on either side of his ample middle. Some of the shrews joined in. Kelaiah couldn't see what was so funny. He was glad none of the novices or Brockrose were laughing.

"Well in all my seasons," wheezed the shrew chieftain. "I never thought I'd be escorting a vermin to 'is weddin'! Wah ha ha ha ha! And who's the lucky maid, eh?"

"Her name is Germantha," said Kelaiah.

"Germantha, eh? Funny name. But then again, don't we all have funny names? Lookit my name! 'Log-a-log'! Wa ha ha ha ha!"

And with that, the shrew started laughing again, his other shrews joining in. Suddenly thier chieftain turned on them. "Wot are you all laughin' about, eh?!" he roared. "Git back to your rowin' and sailin' now! You'll have us all crashin' into the rocks!"

There was some grumpy mutterings among the shrews.

Their leader danced with complete rage. "Will you lot get back to work?!"

The shrews quickly complied.

Log-a-log turned to Kelaiah with a smile. "Ah, marriage," he said wistfully. "I remember when I got married to my wife. There wasn't a prettier shrewmaid in all the world."

Kelaiah exchaned a glance with his friends before the old shrew settled himself down in front of the young ferret.

"Tell me, young un," the old shrew said. "What does your bride look like?"

"Oh, I've never met her," Kelaiah explained.

Log-a-log looked surprised. "Never seen her? But then how-?"

Kelaiah then went on to explain the story to the shrew, telling about how it was an arranged marriage and all.

"But where are you planning on meeting her?" Log-a-log asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I-I don't know," said Kelaiah slowly. "But I think Krar might be able to help me."

"Krar?" asked Log-a-log.

"Who's Krar?" asked Brockrose. "You never mentioned him before."

"Oh, he's a raven, he's a messenger of my father; that's how my father told Germantha's father about how he wanted to join forces and such."

"Ah, I see," said Log-a-log. "So this bird flies around and tells you what's going on, eh? Very good, I wish I had a bird," he mumbled to himself. "It'd certainly help me out with-"

"Krrrrarrrk!"

Several startled heads looked up at where the strange sound had come from.

"Well what do you know," Kelaiah murmured to himself as he saw the raven it self come flying down to him.

It was almost as if he knew they were discussing him and decided that he wanted to be apart of the conversation. The bird in question flew down and landed in front of Kelaiah. There was a general outcry at his sudden appearance.

Shrews grabbed for their rapiers, but Kelaiah called out, "It's alright! It's alright! I know this bird!"

"Krrrr!" squawked Krar, looking out on everybeast with fierce eyes. They all backed away from the huge black bird; he looked more than capable of great harm. The raven turned to Kelaiah, the only one who didn't back away. "Your bride is waiting for you at the docks!"

"She is?" asked Kelaiah, surprised. "But, how did she know - oh, wait, of course," the ferret said, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. "You saw me get on the boats and-"

"Yes!" squawked the big raven, spreading his huge black wings and flying off, leaving most of them breathless.

In the silence that followed, Log-a-log turned to Kelaiah. "Well, that was a very nice, social creature, eh?" he said with a trace of sarcasim.

"He's always like that," Kelaiah explained. "He doesn't like being in one place for too long. That's why my father thought he'd be a good messenger; he'd never dawdle."

"Well, it certainly saves you the time of wandering around," said Fern the mousemaid.

"We're almost at the docks!" shouted one of the shrews in the boat ahead.

"Get ready, young uns!" called out Brockrose. Ready cheers greeted her.

The sturdy squirrel, Redbrush, suddenly turned to Kelaiah and said, "Hey, I just realized something."

"Yeah?"

"How are you going to know its her? Is Krar going to introduce you two?"

"I doubt it," said Kelaiah. "He's never been the type to make introductions. My father knew this, so that's why he came up with the idea to have the bird bring back a scarf from each of us, so that we'd know who we were."

"What?" asked Fern, who had been listening, and was now confused by how the ferret had worded his sentence.

"Here, let me explain," said Kelaiah, reaching into his haversack. "Our fathers had communicated through the bird. My father sent the raven to go speak to Germantha's father and offer his terms. And because they were old rivals they decided that it was best for their children to meet without having the hordes at their backs, so that's why I'm traveling alone. Of course I brought a dagger, but that was only for any other trouble I might've run into."

"You've got a dagger?" asked Redbrush, who hadn't noticed the ferret carrying around any weaponry.

"Yes, and I've kept it well-hidden," said Kelaiah, pulling out the dagger in question. Both Redbrush and Fern gasped at the sight of the weapon's marvelous beauty. It was sharp and white in the blade, but the hilt was made of gold with glittering jewels. The dagger's luxurious beauty did not go unnoticed by any of the other novices or Brockrose or the shrews.

"May I hold it?" asked Redbrush before any possible panic might break out.

"Sure," said Kelaiah, handing it over; normally he wouldn't have given any of his weapons away, but these novices seemed so nice and trustworthy, he thought it was safe to do so.

The sturdy squirrel held the dagger in a way that told Kelaiah that he knew how to use it.

"This is marvelous," said Redbrush, gazing at the jeweled hilt, but when he saw his reflection in the blade, the squirrel wrinkled his face and handed it back to Kelaiah. "Bit too reflective, that blade, eh?" the squirrel said, running a paw over his unattractive features.

There was a bit of general laughter, and Fern said, "Well, go on, Kel, what's the rest of your story? Hurry, before we get to the docks!"

"Well," said Kelaiah, putting away the dagger. "My father's raven had traveled in between our parents, and he brought scarves from each one of us; Germantha is going to be wearing a scarf that I own (or used to own). It's black with red trim, so that's how I'll know its her. And how Germantha will know its me, I'll be wearing one of her scarves." And with that, the young ferret pulled out the garment in question.

There was quite a bit of gasping and giggling at the sight of it. Eyebrows lifted, jaws dropped, eyes narrowed.

"You're going to be wearing _that?!"_ cried the shrews and novices. Even Brockrose looked incredulous at the sight of it.

"Don't remind me," Kelaiah said, looking at the scarf with distaste. It was a hideous thing: a weird shade of yellow-green with overly-pink flowers on it. (It was, in fact, the same garment that Skipper had picked up nervously when he had bumped into Kelaiah.)

_"Logalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogalogggggggggggg!"_ shouted one of the shrews.

"Oh, we're at the docks!" cried one of the novices.

* * *

The docks are filled with more woodlanders and vermin; a lot of them looking impatient to be off.

As Kelaiah got off the boat alongside Fern, Brockrose, and Redbrush, he noticed a big otter coming over towards them.

"Brockrose of Redwall?" the otter called.

"Yes, that's me," said the badger, drawing herself up in a regal manner. "May I ask who's inquiring?"

The otter brought his tail up and tapped his chin, a gesture that was supposed to be polite among otters. "I am from the otter Holt of Skipper Rudd, marm."

"Skipper Rudd?" said Brockrose. "I know no Skipper Rudd."

"Aye, that's because our Holt has never been to Redwall, or at least we haven't been there for awhile," the otter explained. "We only just recently come to the abbey and-"

"Is anything wrong?" Brockrose said sharply.

"Oh no, no! Nothing like that!" the otter hastened to explain.

"What's going on?" said Sister Nellwyn, who had just come over with the rest of the novices.

"Good day, marm," the otter said, lifting his tail to her. "I'm from the Holt of Skipper Rudd, and we've only just arrived at your abbey when the abbot made known your mission to us, so Skipper sent some of us out to help guide you all back to the abbey safely."

"Well isn't that nice?" said Sister Nellwyn delightedly. "And it's been so long since we've had a Skipper at Redwall!"

Now while all this was going on, a certain ferretmaid was watching the crowd of novices carefully. She waddled over and spoke up in a loud, shrill voice, "Anybeast 'ere know a ferret named 'Kelaiah'?"

Brockrose turned and found herself looking into the hideous features of a ferretmaid, who was wearing a black scarf with red trim. She stared in disgusted disbelief at the maid for awhile before turning to Kelaiah.

"Th-that's Kelaiah over there," the badger lady said, speaking before she had time to think.

Germantha, for it was her, looked right over at the male in question. He was holding a scarf that had once belonged to her. She grinned, showing off rows crooked yellow teeth. "You _much_ better-looking than the last one!"

Kelaiah didn't respond. He didn't say anything. He couldn't even move. He couldn't even lower the paw that was holding up the repulsive yellow-green scarf.

The rest of the novices stared at Germantha too, but the ferretmaid didn't seem embarrassed. In fact, she looked quite pleased with all the attention she was getting.

Finally Brockrose patted Kelaiah's shoulder. "Good-bye," she murmured. "And good luck!"

Kelaiah couldn't even nod.

The novices walked by, all of them casting half-teasing, half-sympathetic glances over their shoulders at him.

Germantha waddled up to him. "Hello Kel-lay-uh!" she said, saying his name funny.

"Hello, Germantha," said Kelaiah, his voice sounding like a frogs'.

"You don't have to worry," she said, patting his shoulder and taking him by the paw and leading him away. "I'm not disappointed. I really like you."

It would take a while to describe the look on Kelaiah's face.

"Uh, yeah," he said, swallowing. "But, uh, there's one thing my father forgot to mention: I haven't got a house for you!"

"Oh don't you worry," says Germantha patting him on the back, nearly knocking him down. "I'm used ta liven' outside mostly enyway!"

"Oh," said Kelaiah; he preferred living inside.

They walked on a little farther.

"I'm a terrible tracker!" he said quickly. "I won't be able to forage for food."

"Don't you worry," said Germantha. "Dada said he'd give me some trackers to take care of us."

"Trackers?"

"Uh huh. You can just boss them around all you like."

Kelaiah didn't like bossing other beasts around; only when he knew that he knew how to do something that they didn't. But giving orders to beasts on how and when to track when they themselves knew so much more on how to it, the thought didn't settle well on his mind.

The fat ferretmaid looked up at him with her beady eyes, and grinned, showing off again her crooked yellow teeth. "I can't wait for us to be hitched, can you?"

"Can't wait," Kelaiah answered bleakly. Then he said, "Eh, you said earlier that I was better-looking than that last one. What 'last one'?"

"Oh, Dada once went looking for a husband for me, but he displeased us, so we got rid of him," she said cheerfully.

"Uh huh," Kelaiah said, and continued letting himself be lead further into the forest.

_Don't judge on looks,_ Kelaiah told himself. _You're not exactly much to look at either. _

Right.

And so, Kelaiah smiled bleakly down at his wife-to-be.

_But then again,_ he argued with himself, _she got rid of the last one because he displeased her, and she's not bothered at all by it, so she's not at all kind or thoughtful, and she's dirty and spoiled, in fact, I'd say she's something of a monster, so. . . . _

The male ferret nodded to himself.

He gently pulled his arm out of her's and looked down at Germantha with a smile on his face. The female looked back up at him, surprised by his actions.

Then he looked over her shoulder. His eyes widened.

_"Look!"_ he yelled, pointing.

Germantha turned to look.

Kelaiah didn't waste a second.

Turning, he ran full speed into the woods. Everything was a blur on either side of him as the ferret jumped over logs, climbed up trees, leapt through the branches, and changed direction several times.

Low branches snaked out and whacked him in the face as he leapt from tree branch to tree branch, but Kelaiah did not stop. He finally returned to the ground and started running.

Tree roots reached up from the ground, trying to ensnare his footpaws, but the young ferret jumped over them nimbly, dodging everything that would've hindered him.

His footpaws slamming against the ground with bruising force, Kelaiah never once looked back, only forward, every grain in his thin body intent on escaping.

The ferret splashed through brooks and waded across small rivers, for once not caring about chill or log or pike.

The young ferret pumped his arms for more speed, his breath coming in ragged gasps, he was getting tired, he couldn't run for much longer, _oh, side-cramp. . . . _

Finally, the young ferret stopped, leaned forward and took several deep breaths, nearly falling to his knees.

When he looked up, Kelaiah realized that he was in a clearing of some kind . . .

. . . and in front of him . . .

. . . was Redwall Abbey.

* * *

Brockrose the badgermum was just about to close the abbey gates after she had ushered all the new novices inside, when suddenly-

_"Wait!" _

The badger lady turned and looked out in surprise, and saw across the plain a skinny creature wearing a ragged cloak, waving a tattered haversack, come racing toward her.

Almost immediately Brockrose realized who it was, and her face broke out into a smile of suprised delight. "Why Kelaiah!" she called jovially.

Then the young ferret was lost from view.

Brockrose blinked. _Wha. . . .? _

That was odd; he just disappeared. . . . then the badger realized that he probably fell in the ditch.

"Kelaiah!" Brockrose called, hurrying out. The otter gatekeeper followed closely.

"Kelaiah!" Brockrose called again as she neared the ditch. "Are you alright?"

The young ferret's frazzled head appeared over the edge. "I'm okay," he called back. He tried climbing out, but the big badger put her massive paw down and hoisted him up as if he weighed nothing at all.

"Well, well," Brockrose said as she dusted the ferret off. "What brings you here? I thought you were going to get married?"

Kelaiah looked up at her, and said, "Brockrose, you've got yourself another novice."

* * *

**A/N:**_ Well, there you have it! A (hopefully) original reason for a vermin to come to Redwall: to get out of an unsavory marriage! _

_So what do you all think? Do you think I should go on with this? Is there any reason why I should or shouldn't? _


End file.
